


One broken nose and a mild concussion

by Blue_Thallium (orphan_account)



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Black Romance, M/M, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-18
Updated: 2013-07-18
Packaged: 2017-12-20 15:32:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/888877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Blue_Thallium
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dave and John are really starting to get on each other's nerves</p>
            </blockquote>





	One broken nose and a mild concussion

Dave was beginning to think that moving in with John had been a bad idea.

John was his best friend, and Dave loved him! They still joked around and had fun together, but.

God, Dave had never noticed how loudly he chewed, how fucking gross it was when he left his retainer in the sink in the bathroom. Just. In the sink. Not even on the side of the sink, in the sink. Dave had never noticed that John had a tendency to hum, all the time, really badly. He was an asshole in the mornings too. Dave was happy to just get up and get on with his day, but John had to be a nasty asshole until he'd had a bagel and a cup of coffee.

Then he'd start humming.

The pranks were really starting to wear thin too. Dave knew there were only so many loose salt shakers and faces full of silly string he could take before he punched that smug little asshole right in the mouth.

Even the sound of John's laugh was starting to grate on him.

*

"Could you not do that?" John snapped. He dropped his spoon in his cereal, and Dave inwardly rejoiced for a break from John gnashing his teeth and smacking his lips. 

"What?" 

"Crack your fucking neck. It's driving me crazy!" John sounded... weirdly furious. Dave was weirdly furious that John was furious. After all, John was the annoying one here, not Dave. Dave was the perfect fucking house mate, he barely made a sound, he was helpful, he was clean, he didn't leave his gross retainer in the sink, or anything. 

"Maybe I'll stop cracking my neck when you stop chewing like a fucking chimp," Dave growled. John snorted, and plucked at the collar of his t-shirt. Dave, at least, got dressed in the mornings, made the effort to pull on a pair of cargo shorts and a decent t-shirt before he saw any one. John, however, felt the need laze around in the thin, stained t-shirts he slept in, and his boxers for at least an hour before he dressed.

"Deal. Maybe you could try and not... Um, do that whole... Infuriating tuneless whistling thing you're like hell-bent on doing in the mornings, huh?"

Dave rolled his eyes. "How about I just stay out of your way until you've had your coffee, princess?" 

John picked up his bowl and stomped away, tipping what was left of the cereal in the sink. Dave rather delicately sipped his tea, then whistled a bar of Dancing Queen. John dropped his bowl and turned to face him with a glare that might have had a weaker man cease his whistling. Dave started on the chorus, keeping it as tuneless and disjointed as possible, while John advanced on him. 

John's knuckles were balled up and white, and the hair on his thick, brown arms stood on end. Dave sometimes forgot how big John had gotten. Puberty was a wonderful thing, truly, but seemed increasingly less wonderful the closer all 190 pounds of John got. Though Dave sank down in his chair, he carried on whistling and whistling, and almost finished the second verse by the time John got to him. His fist wound slowly into the collar of Dave's shirt, pulling him close so they were almost nose to nose.

"I don't think I can live with you anymore," growled John. He was so angry, he'd actually turned red. Dave's heart was pounding with sheer panic and outrage and all of that angry frightened blood didn't know where to rush. He felt a flush spreading on his chest, and his cheeks glow. His pulse thrummed in his fingers and toes, and sent this utterly bizarre twitch through his cock.

The world seemed to pause as Dave reviewed the situation. Here was Dave, basically half hard, and there was John, rather close to him, and absolutely outraged. Dave wanted to bite him. He was so angry with John, all he wanted to do was bite him. Which was, admittedly an odd impulse, and one he wasn't so sure he should indulge.

"Take your fucking hands off of me, John," Dave hissed. Dave was aware that this was kind of petty and ridiculous, but at the moment, he couldn't seem to quite reconcile the John he knew and loved with the pissy hairy dude who chewed too loudly, and currently had his fist wound in his collar.

John shook his head, and let go of Dave, taking a step back. "I think we need to find somewhere else to live before we kill each other," he said. He took a deep breath, and ran a hand through his hair, seemingly ready to leave for his bedroom, when Dave... Well, self control had never been Dave's strong point. He'd been reliably informed on a number of occasions he was a little shit and an attention seeker, who never knew when to stop.

So when he puckered his lips together and whistled the first bar of I Am What I Am, he wasn't particularly surprised he'd done it.

The growl that came from John was almost unearthly, and the way he span on his heel to face Dave, teeth clenched, eyes wild and blue, Dave felt rather like he was in a nature documentary or something. A bull elephant racing toward a particularly irritating gazelle that wouldn't stop whistling by the watering-hole of a morning. 

John charged at him, and Dave scampered out of his chair, snickering nastily like a playground bully. He swept past John easily, but quickly realised he'd ran right at their kitchen cabinets. Mere moments after realising what he'd done, John was there, pressing him into the counter by the hips, hands firmly wound back into his t-shirt. 

They were nose to nose, and John's breathing was thick, and uneven. John tensed when Dave accidentally brushed his hand against his bare thigh. Dave was being harassed by a man in his underwear, he was so angry he was shaking.

"What the fuck are you even doing?" he forced a snigger, but his voice was sharp and too high. John shook him like he was looking for a wall to slam him against. It was like he wanted to punch Dave, but he didn't quite have the conviction to go through with it. John was so hot against him, he was heavy and the weight against Dave's crotch (cock growing almost inexplicably harder by the minute) was bordering on pleasant. But Dave didn't particularly have time to deal with John's grunting at him and breathing on him. He gave John the hardest headbutt he could manage with the limited space. 

He felt John's teeth scrape against his forehead, along with a disgusting pop, that had to have been John's lip. John staggered back with his hand over his mouth and tripped on his own feet, sending him ass first to the floor, still clutching what Dave could only assume was a split lip.

He went to leave, not wanting to give John the satisfaction of running, when he felt a large hand wrap around his ankle. He cursed loudly as the apartment swirled around him, and his chin banged against the floor. Dave decided to feel lucky he hadn't bitten off his tongue. He rolled onto his back and tried scramble to his feet, but John had already clambered onto his legs with surprising speed.

John smeared the blood from his lip onto Dave's knee, and pulled himself up till he was straddling Dave's hips, looking utterly demonic with his thunderous scowl and bloody mouth. 

John growled and ground down against his hips trying to sit back on Dave's thighs. Dave got very hard, very fast. John rolled his eyes.

"Why doesn't that surprise me," he whined. "God, you're so fucking gross! We can't even fight without you making it weird!" Dave's hips twitched and John buried his face in his hands. Pain rang through Dave's jaw and pulsed through his head.   
"I hate you, so much," said John. He was completely serious, Dave could tell, and between his dick and the pain in his head he figured the feeling was pretty mutual. 

Dave reached up to swat at John's face, but John caught his wrist, glaring down at him. He squeezed too hard. Dave was very aware that John was in control of this situation. He was half a head taller than Dave, and an awful lot heavier, and though Dave was much faster, speed meant very little when you were trapped underneath a much bigger person. He shuddered again, hips twitching up against John's ass, barely covered up by his threadbare boxers. John grunted, half pulled back before bearing down on Dave's hips, getting a sigh out of him.

Dave was a little surprised when John lunged at him, but not entirely displeased, when John dragged him into a furious kiss. It was wet and violent, all rough tongue and teeth. John's mouth tasted like blood and cereal. Dave bit down on his sore lips when John grabbed a handful of hair and pulled, hard enough that Dave heard the odd thread of hair snap away from his scalp. He gasped and clicked their teeth together, John hissing and pulling away. His mouth was smeared with blood and spit, and Dave could see the outline of his cock very clearly. Not quite hard, but getting there.

John pushed up Dave's t-shirt and unbuttoned his shorts, digging a rough palm against the line of his cock, so it pushed uncomfortably against Dave's skin, and made him unable to do anything but wiggle in half pain half pleasure. Dave grabbed both of his thighs and scraped his short nails as hard as he could. John groaned, scowled and slapped Dave's wrists away, but he came back again, clawing hard with drawing blood in mind. John immediately dug his palm back into to Dave's dick, and had him raising his hands in defeat in seconds. John pressed down very slowly, adding more and more force, till Dave squawked "Knock it off!" at him.

John relaxed his hand and licked his bloody lips, he unbuttoned his boxers and took out his cock, still scowling at Dave while he touched himself, like he was furious he was doing this. He was quite delicate about it, teasing himself hard, looking Dave up and down with a thoughtful rage, contemplating what to do next. 

John stuck his free fingers into Dave's mouth. He didn't tell Dave to suck, he just roughly poked his fingers around Dave's mouth till his fingers were wet enough. Dave waited for John to flip him over, or at least pull his shorts all the way down, but he didn't. John tugged his boxers down as far as he could get them, and reached around his hips.

Dave watched his face change from angry, to uncomfortable, then very quickly to something that was almost serene (if you could have an angry version of serenity), as John worked himself open, staring Dave down like this was some kind of challenge. 

"What are you even doing?" he asked.

"Shut up, Dave," snapped John. "Just shut the fuck up for like five minutes."

Dave rolled his eyes, but he shut up. He wasn't really sure where to look and wished he'd put his shades on this morning. 

John got up, sort of, enough to shrug his boxers off and tug Dave's pants and underwear down to his knees. He threw his shirt over his head before settling himself over Dave's cock. He spat in his hand till his mouth was dry, and slicked Dave up as best he could. Dave could have sneered something about there being lube in the bathroom, but he didn't want to ruin the moment. John was a big boy, and Dave damn well knew he was used to this. He could take it. 

John lowered himself onto Dave, hissing as he did, not fully settling himself. "Sit up," he barked.

So Dave sat up, and winced when John's hands dove roughly into his hair; one hand still damp with saliva, he pulled rough and cruel as he started to work himself up and down. 

Dave hadn't really had angry sex before so he wasn't... one hundred percent sure what to do. John settled his chin on Dave's shoulder, locked him in this weird death grip, and all Dave could do was grunt, while John panted in his ear, and attempted to build up some kind of rhythm.

"How fucking long have you wanted to do this for, Dave?" he snarled. Dave didn't answer. He tried to focus on the heat, the pressure on his cock rather than John's hair pulling. "Huh?" John pulled sharply, and Dave gasped, reached around and yanked John's hands out of his hair, keeping as tight a hold on his wrists a he could. Dave answered with a bite on the lips, tasting blood again, knocking off the slight scabbing that had formed at the split Dave had made.

John whined, and bit back, bit harder, snatched his hands of Dave's and clawed at Dave's back. He bit at Dave's cheek and his ear and his neck. Dave couldn't abide hair pulling, but a few bites and scratches and he was jelly. He groaned loudly and snapped his hips up into John, who bit his neck again. The harsh pinch of John's teeth and the sound of his own pathetic mewling had Dave reaching down and grabbing at John's ass, dug his nails hard and scraped. John swore and littered sharp, hard little bites all over Dave's neck and shoulder, answering Dave's scratches. Dave grabbed and scratched harder, went for John's hips and tried to control the pace, but had his hand smacked away.

Dave thumped John on the back in reply, who licked a stripe up Dave's neck then bit him painfully on the ear.

When Dave tried to bite John's lip again, John snorted and pushed him to the floor. He banged his head and yowled, cruelly thrusting his hips when John laughed. The laugh was cut short, but Dave could hardly enjoy that small victory, as John started riding him at an almost punishing pace. The whole thing was too angry and dry to be as good as something like this could be. Dave's head ached, his jaw was still smarting, and the skin on his neck was quickly starting to sting and chafe. 

He let his eyes slide shut and tried to concentrate on the feeling of John, tight and hot, the increasingly erratic pace of him.

Dave opened his eyes, found John weakly rolling his hips, fist flying up and down his dick, still glaring.

"You look so cute," John clenched as he spoke, and Dave spluttered before he could finish his sentence, "When my dick is in your ass, and you're not fucking... Leaving your retainer in the sink."

"Shut the fuck up," John said. It was barely comprehensible. He twitched around Dave and his jerky, shallow thrusts slowed to a stop. He gave his cock a few long, hard pumps, and quickly came, across the bottom of Dave's stomach and his t-shirt.

Without much of a warning, he climbed up off of Dave, and stood up on shaky legs. Dave gasped, partly at the sudden cold air and lack of John's ass on his dick, partly out of annoyance.

"You're kidding me," Dave whined, "You've got to be." John smirked. "Look, if you wanted me to apologise or beg or something then I'm sorry for whistling and shit, and please come back here, and blah blah blah." 

John ignored him and casually strolled into the bathroom, leaving Dave with little more than a hard dick, a stained shirt and a massive headache. 

He jerked off miserably on the floor, and broke John's nose when he came out of the shower.

**Author's Note:**

> 4 tumblr user crockertier


End file.
